


Not For Kings And Thrones And Golden Halls

by katajainen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Family Feels, Ficlet, From strangers to more, M/M, New Acquaintances, Post BOTFA (at the end), Sharing a pint and a pipe, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: In the beginning, Nori and Bofur find common ground from family gossip (and shared love of a good smoke) - in the end, that's a start for sharing something more.
Relationships: Bofur/Nori (Tolkien)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Not For Kings And Thrones And Golden Halls

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet I wrote some years ago (in 2016), rediscovered and decided to post after tidying it up a bit.

Bofur slipped out the moment people began wrangling over sleeping arrangements. He wasn’t a fussy sort, him, he could kip down in a corner somewhere once all the hassle was done. Let those bicker who cared for that kind of thing. As he closed the round door behind him, he glimpsed the glow of embers in the gentle May-time darkness, and caught a whiff of pipeweed smoke.

‘Have a seat, there’s room aplenty.’ The speaker took another deep drag from his pipe, and the brief flare of light from the bowl outlined a narrow angular face, the eyes reflecting the fire-gold under a most interesting set of eyebrows.

Bofur dropped down on the bench next to him and reached for his own pouch. ‘Nori, wasn’t it?’ he asked as he packed his pipe.

‘And you are Bofur.’

‘That’s me. So.’ He struck a spark, then another, trying to get a shaving of tinder to catch. ‘You some relation to the lordly folks?’

‘Me? No– not in any way they would admit to, at least,’ Nori laughed. ’You?’

‘Never. Common as muck, that’s me. But my brother and cousin are in the Company, too.’

‘Your brother– he’s the one with the ginger looping braid? Bombur?’

Bofur nodded and blew out a trail of smoke. ‘Aye. And Bifur’s our cousin–’

‘Don’t tell me. Boar spear and an unfortunate axe injury.’

‘Yes.’ Bofur replied. ‘This was Bombur’s idea first. All that talk of treasure… he has a big family, you see; pebbles past counting, and another one on the way. It’s no easy thing to make ends meet, I can tell you. Then Bifur wanted to go with him, and he’s…’ Bofur fell silent, and realised he almost expected the other to finish the sentence for him. The only answer he got, however, was the quiet crackle of burning weed and a puff of smoke.

‘He needs someone to keep an eye on him. Sometimes.’ he finally completed the thought himself. ‘And Bombur’s my only brother.’

‘I’m much the same.’ Nori said after a moment. ‘Ori, my younger brother – well, you know Balin, he did the contracts – he’s Ori’s Master. Ori is old enough to sign up for himself, but Dori – he’s the oldest of us – he would be dead before he let him leave on his own, so there wasn’t much of a choice for me, was there? The Mountain and the throne and the treasure… they have nothing on me.’

‘But at least the ale is free.’

Nori’s sudden laughter rang bright in the quiet evening. ‘That it is! And our host stocks a fine barrel. As it happens–’ Bofur could hear a faint knock of wood on wood as Nori emptied out the dregs of his pipe– ‘it would be a shame to leave it to spoil once it’s been cracked open. You want some?’

‘The day I’ll say no to a good pint is the day I’m buried.’

‘True words. Be back in a jiff.’

For a moment, the light from the open door gleamed copper and gold on hair woven into star-shaped peaks. Then the latch clicked and it was dark again. Well now, Bofur thought. It would be good to have someone else on the journey who had other things in their head besides gold and glory.

✦ ✦ ✦

It was months later now, and gold and glory had brought them little else but grief. Bofur’s arms and shoulders ached as he pulled himself onto the spur of rock. He could still hear the hum of the camp down below, but from up here he could at least look at something else besides the rows of tents.– dwarves grouped against one fork of the Mountain’s roots, elves perched on another, and Men sitting uneasily in between.

And further down in the vale, the torn ground, the frozen mud, the full enormous stinking debris of the battle, and the cackle of birds circling and screaming above it all, ravens and smaller birds besides.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring out into the empty horizon, but it couldn’t have been too long. He heard the scuffle of boots on stone, and someone cleared their throat.

‘Can’t you let a body have a bloody breather,’ Bofur muttered under his breath. ‘I’ll be there in a moment,’ he said aloud.

‘Don’t hurry on my account.’ Nori was standing very nearly at his shoulder with a pipe dangling between his teeth. He took a long pull and held it in, and when he next spoke, faint tendrils of smoke trailed from his mouth and nose. ‘Want some?’ he asked.

Bofur took the pipe without thinking. He supposed his own was somewhere in his pack, but he couldn’t remember when he last had any proper leaf to speak of. He drank in the tangy smoke, then let out a sigh.

‘It’s surprising what one can rustle up from our Iron arse cousins, when you wheedle enough.’

That startled a laugh from Bofur. ‘Pinched it?’

Nori shrugged and perched down on the rock beside him. ‘Didn’t have a name written on. But it tastes lovely, doesn’t it? They say a smoke always tastes better after a fight, you know?’

Bofur shook his head. He didn’t care much. What he did care about was how his head seemed to clear up some with each pull of the pipe, as if the smoke chased away the numbing buzz that had left no room for thinking.

‘I hear they made it; your brother and your cousin?’

‘Aye– Bom’s got himself all chummy with the Iron Hills quartermaster, and they had me running stuff for them until–’ he stopped to take another drag. ‘Until Bifur woke up and they needed someone.’ Bofur shook his head. ‘You would think getting the thing knocked _off_ his head would do him some good but… it’s been a long while since the last time he had a fit like this. He’s sleeping it off now, so I thought I’d nip off for a bit.’ He fell silent again, and realised this had been most words he had spoken to _anyone_ since the fighting was done.

Nori said nothing but tapped him on the shoulder. Bofur handed him the pipe. ‘What of your brothers?’ he asked carefully.

Nori blew out a wide smoke ring that vanished almost at once in the biting wind. ‘Scratches, mostly, ‘ he said. ‘Ori will have a fancy scar, though. He’ll be beating off suitors with a stick before the winter’s out.’ He paused with a cringe. ‘I’m sure I had taught him to duck properly.’

‘He’ll be fine.’ Bofur assured him. ‘I never saw anyone so excited to get stitches done, though.’

‘Sounds like Ori.’

They were silent for a moment, and the wind blew in their faces from the East; sharp and clean and cold.

‘That’s our part done, I guess,’ Bofur finally said. ‘We got them this far, they can sort out the treasure themselves.’

‘Aye.’ And Nori laughed like it was that other evening, a long time ago; warm and with little birds singing in the bushes, and leaned against Bofur. ‘But there’s the other thing, though.’.

‘What other thing?’

‘The other thing they say tastes fine after a fight.’

And Nori’s hair looked as if something had tried to build a nest in it, and his face was streaked with half-wiped grime and dust, but his eyes glinted bright under the braided eyebrows and his wiry frame fit ever so nicely against Bofur’s side.

‘You think?’ And Bofur would slip away a hundred times over to see those dark eyes crinkle with glee.

Nori’s grin tasted of pipesmoke and promise – a fine thing after a fight, as they said, or any other time at all.


End file.
